A Speedy Duel
by ShizzySavage16
Summary: After slaughtering an entire bar due to the annoying presence of a curious omnic, a criminal waits for an authoritive figure to uselessly give chase to him... but what he got instead was someone that he would’ve never expected. No chase was to be had, but instead, a quick-paced duel. (Rated M for Violence/Language)


**I usually don't write stuff like this, but here's my attempt at writing the genre of ****Action (kind of). Hopefully it's not too bad.**

**_x_**

It was a usual day as a Bartender; serve and greet customers of all different faces, but with the two same intentions in mind — to get their money, and most importantly, to maintain the 'peace'... if that's what it could be called. The usual dribble of a drunken person that's had too much to drink would often spew something rude to the individuals around him, but the omnic server was lucky enough to have a couple of his own 'peacemakers' around should things get sticky with the customers. They were local folk that either came from the cities gruelling jobs, and men that were unsatisfied with _something_ in their lives; a good mix of successful, and the feeling of unsuccessful in this one bar, a good mix indeed.

But when a new face entered through the doors of the bar, the omnic suddenly grew wary. He was unclear as to why he was wary though, because he had hired a bouncer to guard the entrance from any customers that were carrying weapons or anything that was suspicious on them... but then again, the bouncer was hired for dirt cheap, and the man that just came in looked like just came out of a rough scuffle!

The omnic didn't like to judge based off looks, but with how the new face looked like, what else could he do?

A crinkled T-Shirt that was coloured in red... _and other shades of red too._ Dirt-stained dogtags hanging from his neck... brown jogging pants that were ripped at the knees, and visible bruises from his face to his arms?

_What a mess he was._

And he's never seen this one before, and due to the amazing A.I that he's been developed with, the omnic server remembered _every_ face that's been introduced to him - whether he wanted to or not. He gave the customer a wary glance, but still served him as he would to any other customer.

A bottle of 40 for him... but for what? People tend to drink Malt Liquor if their trying to escape reality for a couple hours... was the man going through a breakup? Was he going to drown his sorrows on a bottle? Or was he just looking to get wasted?

The server didn't know, but as long as he wasn't causing any trouble, he didn't mind his presence.

**_x_**

Business continued on as usual. The bartender kept serving customers and exchanged the usual glance with the new face that was sat down alone.

The man was new around here, one that hasn't talked to anyone around for quite some time. The only time he'd open his mouth was when he'd be sipping the poison from the bottle in his hand.

Speaking about his hands, both of his looked concerning. There was stained _red_ in various spots around the surface of the wrapped bandages. The red looked fresh and bright, similar to real blood... but no one knew exactly _what_ was the cause for those colours to be spread across it.

The omnic server knew better than to purge into other peoples business... but he couldn't resist. He simply had to know _more_ about this new face.

"Ray!" The omnic called out.

"Yeah?" A man responded.

"Be a dear and cover for me, will you?" The omnic asked, not even waiting for the man's response.

The omnic decided _not_ to confront the man face to face, but instead, go to the bouncer that he stationed up front for some information about him. The omnic made his way through the crowd of men with bottles in their hands until the exit was finally reached.

The omnic escaped the loud, up-paced music of the bar and opened the door. He tapped on the shoulder of the bouncer. The bouncer turned around to face the bartender, confused as to why he left his post.

"O.B? What's the matter? Why're you out of your post?" The bouncer asked.

_"I am the one that's asking the questions here - not you... and please refer to me as 'boss' instead of 'O.B',"_ the omnic pointed inside the direction of the bar, "the new face you just let in not too long ago... what's his story?"

The bouncer furrowed a brow, unsure of how to answer the question he was asked.

"Hm. Well... just based on first looks and impressions, he seems like a boy that's been raised in the gutters, you know? Sharp mouth, bandages wrapped all around his fists, a shotgun-"

"I did not ask for the impressions he's made on you!" The omnic interrupted, "I asked... _wait. You mentioned a 'shotgun'?"_ The omnic recalled, quite confusingly as well.

"Yeah, boss. The man was carrying a shotgun,"

The omnic then began to get scared, until the bouncer continued his sentence.

_"... but I got it right here,"_ he pointed inside a compartment that was locked tight, "he had a few other stuff on him, like some soda cans and two packs of gum, but other than that, the shotgun was what caught my attention. So I decided to confiscate it from him, cause I didn't want him shooting up the people inside and uh..." he looked back at the omnic, who was sporting an unimpressed look at the words he had just said. He paused and gulped, waiting for the omnic to say what was on his mind.

_"... you don't sound very confident in doing what's required of the damn reason I hired you for the position of a 'BOUNCER'."_ The omnic stressed.

"Ah- _oh. Sorry, sir._ I'll make sure to sound more confident in-"

"Forget it," the omnic interrupted as he turned towards the doors, "just stay here and do your job, and make sure you sound _confident_ the next time I drop by, okay?"

**_x_**

The bartender didn't learn too much about the new face's story, but at least he was made aware of the fact that he had a shotgun in possession. It was a good thing it was confiscated though. With the way that he looked and the _vibe_ he gave out in his presence, the bartender was glad that he didn't have anything to harm anyone with.

Maybe that was the reason he was drinking a bottle of 40. Maybe he did something with that shotgun that he really wanted to forget, and here he is. It would explain the red on his bandages.

But as seconds and minutes passed on, the more he was tempted to question just _why_ there was dark-stained red on his bandages. It didn't look like a self-inflicted wound either. It looked like it was the blood of another instead... _but how was the omnic supposed to know?_

The omnic finished wiping down one cup and decided to approach the intimidating man from behind the counter.

_"Another bottle of Malt Liquour for the good sir, or-"_

"Nah." The man quickly declined.

The omnic nodded, "Understood..."

But temptation got the better of him in the end. The omnic decided to grow a pair. He glanced at the man and started the conversation off casually enough, deciding to question him about the grisly appearance of his bandages.

_"Pardon me, good sir. But, may I ask why there__ is red across your bandages?"_ The omnic asked, earning him the unsettling glare of the man in return.

His stare was strong and keen. His eyes were blue and sharp, and he looked ready for _anything_ to go down - whether it be a brawl with one of the ruffians around or a classic shootout with the outlaws that were in the furthest corner of the bar - he looked prepared.

"Whaddya think, tin-boy?" He responded.

The omnic's been called many names, and usually, that right there was a name he wasn't too fond of. The server found the customer's response as rude, and he's had experience with rude customers before. Like mentioned though, he was a respectful figure around town, and an even more respected bartender, and he knew that the locals around here had his back... so be shot back a response that was as equally rude as his.

"I think that you must have slipped and suffered a tiny boo-boo across your hands, good sir." The omnic shot back.

The man slapped the bottle of swig down on the counter, narrowing his stare at the self-aware metal in front of him.

_"What'd ya say?"_

The man was leaned forward, and he seemed very stable about his emotions despite drinking almost all of the liquid inside the bottle.

_"Very well,"_ The omnic repeated himself, _"I think that you must have slipped and suffered a tiny boo-boo across your hands, rude sir."_

The man narrowed his eyes, _"... that ain't what you said. Stop being a smartass and repeat yourself before I do something I might not remember."_

The conversation grabbed a few eyes from some individuals that were around the counter.

"Hey, O.B!" A gruff voice called out, "That boy giving you trouble?"

The omnic looked back at the concerned customer, but the man in front of him was muttering words to him.

_"What're you gonna say, huh?"_ The man swiped his drink and gulped down the last remaining drops, letting it fall to the floor once he was finished. The bottle cracked as it hit the ground, and that got the attention of even more people.

_"Just say the words that's gonna piss me off. I dare ya."_ He whispered.

"Ey', is the boy giving you trouble or not, O.B?" Another concerned individual asked, standing up from his seat. His whole posse seemed to follow his steps as well.

"Just say the word, O.B! You know we're used to teaching rude folks a lesson!"

The omnic turned to face the man - Metal to face.

"Clean up your mess, and I'll let this little incident slide," The omnic gestured to the men that were around him, "Or would you rather have these good-hearted men tempt you into cleaning it up instead?"

As soon the omnic said that, a small crowd of men started making their way towards the rude man. Behind them were even more men, and before anyone knew it - _the whole bar_ seemed to be dead-zoned on the customer.

The omnic stood straight with both arms crossed, looking the man in his eyes.

_"Well? What is your choice, rude sir?"_

The man simply stared at the server and chuckled at him. He stood up from his seat and uttered an unsettling sentence to the omnic.

"The name's 'Scout', tin-boy. But I guess it doesn't matter now since you're gonna end up as scrap for the yards."

_"Oh! How rude-!"_

In a quick second, 'Scout' reached for the omnic's head and **yanked** it straight apart from its body. As quickly as that happened, a ruffian behind him lunged two burly arms for his neck, but failed terribly as his cheek collided with the cold metal of the omnic's severed head.

"HE KILLED O.B!" A man yelled out, "HE KILLED O.B!"

Pure distraught and fury was visible in the bar's air, as all the denizens of the bar started to slowly trod towards Scout, the intention for revenge in their eyes because one of the cities most prominent bartenders had just been _killed!_

2 more arms lunged for Scout, and before he knew it, 6 more arms went for him. He fended himself well with the omnic's severed head, but there was only so much it could do against the hard skulls of the men.

No, he needed to retreat and get his weapons back from the bouncer. Luckily, he had a concealed pistol deep down in his pockets that was hard to spot and even harder to feel, so he pulled it out and began to paint red amongst the men - one by one, all shots landing.

Screams echoed from the bar and gunshots were rampant. Soon, many individuals fled the site, valuing their lives as they avoided Scout's aim. Not even the outlaws in the furthest corner of the bar were a match for his experienced trigger-finger, each one falling swiftly as a bullet bypassed their brains.

3 minutes after the murder of the omnic server, and the bar was completely empty... if the corpses of _men_ didn't count as space used inside.

The bouncer that guarded the doors kicked down the entrance with a strong leg. But as soon as he caught sight of what was inside the premises, he felt a feeling of revolt and disgust shoot up his system. He knelt down on the floor as bile came out his mouth, and right behind him was a man with a pistol.

He was kind enough to let the bouncer finish his business and recollect himself.

"You're one of the shittiest bouncers I've ever had to kill, pal."

One final shot and one more body to add to the kill count of this eventful night.

**_x_**

Scout sat outside the bar and leaned against a wall, thinking to himself quietly, in a zone of disturbing _peace_ despite the counts of murder he had just committed. Before leaving, he swiped some tequila from behind the counter, because this was a night that he didn't want to remember the next morning.

He drank almost half the bottle in one go, wincing at the bold taste. He remembered how his Mother used to always tell him not to drink alcohol, which she called 'poison' in disguise... how wrong she was!

Alcohol, whether it was beer, whiskey, or gin, every type eased life for him in someway. It made life a little more bearable for the way he was living, and he couldn't complain with that.

He laid the bottle of tequila down on the ground and decided to bust open the horrible lock in which his duffelbag was being kept in.

He was an experienced lock-picker, and this experience allowed him to bust through the lock's system without too much trouble.

He got his duffelbag back and pulled his beloved 'scattergun' out; a modified shotgun that he's been introduced to at the tender age of 16. He cared for the weapon over the years... but nothing lasts forever, and it seemed like this one was about to outlive its usefulness. The barrel was close to rusting, the stock was worn out, and the trigger didn't seem to be as smooth as it was years ago - when he first used it on a live target.

Through the windows of the bar, Scout could see the bright blood and the stiff corpses of the men that were scattered around the floor... Sometimes, he felt bad, or maybe even _terrible_ about mass murders like this. But he's done it and got away from it enough times to consider it something that wasn't as serious as it was supposed to be treated as. It explained his nonchalant nature after doing crime.

Usually, Scout would be gone from the crime scene as soon as he heard the sirens of police cars in the distance.

Odd.

It was taking long for sirens to be heard... _did no one call for the cops?_

_"Hmph. Bozos were probably too friggin' wasted to use their damn phones."_

The bar wasn't in the heart of the city, but more like on the outskirts, just outside city boundaries. It gave the bar a nice 'isolated' feel that customers could experience when they entered within the vicinity. Maybe the positioning of the bar was the reason why police took so long to respond...

Before Scout left the slaughtered bar, he decided to take the bashed in head of the omnic he murdered. He decided to examine it. Inside the head was a complex circuitry of wires and other features that he was too lazy to identify.

He tossed the omnic's head to the side.

It wasn't the first omnic he killed either. He remembered omnics being much more durable than the one he's just murdered... metal resisted bullets quite well, but not the pure _yank_ of a very dedicated grip...

Scout waited, and waited until _someone_ of authority would show up. It was a weird routine of his; waiting on someone that could possibly bust him, but he was a weird boy that always did things his way, regardless of major opinion...

Maybe it was the andrenaline he lived for. He's been in countless chases during his spree of crime, and every time he got away with it, a satisfying feeling of personal pleasure always seemed to surge right inside of him... the feeling of defying authority made him feel special and different from the generic person.

And after minutes of being patient, _finally,_ someone did show up... though, he wasn't sure if this person... this _lady,_ was a part of law enforcement.

Scout was sure he's seen her earlier than she could see him. His eyes worked as a sniper's would; clear, and eagle-like.

The woman wore a brown pilot's jacket, with _bright_ orange leggings to complete the lower half of her fit. Her sleeves were rolled up to the upper half of her forearm, and in her hands were 2 pulse pistols - fully loaded with the safeties off.

He wondered why.

But what caught his attention the most (other than those leggings that made her lean legs as attractive as possible) was the strange glowing device that was strapped across her chest. It emitted a bright blue glow which looked amazing in the dark...

_She did too, with her slim figure and her pretty face, __but the words that came out her mouth told him all that he needed to know about her opinions on him._

"Oi! Murderer!" The woman yelled out.

Scout leaned off the wall and turned towards the woman that was steadily approaching him.

"How would you know if I was the one who killed everyone here?" He asked her, "Maybe I'm an off duty cop that decided to call backup for the investigation."

She furrowed her brows at him.

_"That lie was so barmy._ First of all, you have a bloody shotgun in your hands! What does that tell me?!" She asked.

He looked down at his shotgun and chuckled as she caught his lie. He opened his mouth to reveal another lie, but was met with an impatient hold of her hand.

_"Stop! I don't wanna hear it,"_ she interrupted, _"And __besides, your crime's already been in the reports, luv'... _and my superior has past records on you as well. He warned me that you are not to be taken as a captive. So that means I must resort to elimination."

She pointed the pulse pistols at him, _"And it is my sworn duty to protect the world from scum like you."_

Scout, with quick reflexes, dodged the full clip of the woman's pulse pistols, which shattered the windows behind him.

He looked back at the lady.

She was reloading her pistols.

_"Quick bugger, huh?"_ She said to him.

Flattering compliment, but he unfortunately didn't have much time to embrace it.

He loaded his scattergun and made as much distance as he could get from her, "You play dirty for a cute girl!" He yelled as he ran away.

With his quick and long steps, he turned a corner, going right back into the bar and closing the door on her. If he was going to fight this lady who already had an advantageous start on him, he'd fight her on his terms - close and personal in tight spaces; his scattergun _loved_ that.

As he closed the door, the pulse rounds pierced right through it, barely missing his arm as bottles behind the counter shattered and cracked.

"Call me 'cute' one more time and I'll put a quick end to this little charade of yours!" She said behind the door.

"Can't lie! I just find you more cute for trying to threaten me!" Scout responded, _"Do ya even know who you're talking to?!"_

"Doesn't matter! Both you and your name will mean rubbish once I'm done with you!"

Scout pointed the shotgun at the entrance door, waiting for her to foolishly walk through it. He waited, but she didn't go through the door as he was expecting her to. He suddenly heard a distinct _*zip*_ in the air. He shot his eyes across the room, scanning for what could've possibly made such a noise.

_"You hear that, luv?"_

Scout still kept the barrel of his scattergun pointed at the entrance.

"I ain't deaf, cupcake! I heard it! Were you the one that made the noise?" He asked.

_"Probably!"_

The door swung open, and the woman was behind it... _until she wasn't._ Her figure instantly phased 3 steps ahead of where she was supposed to be. Scout wasn't expecting such a brash move. He pulled the trigger of his scattergun, but all pellets failed to connect with his target. As a consequence, he suffered a minor injury from the woman's pulse pistols as she shot wildly at him.

Scowling to himself, he readjusted his aim and fired at her... again, missing her completely as she phased out of the way.

_"What the hell is this?!"_ He yelled out in frustration. He quickly found some cover from the odd individual.

She then phased further to his left and continued to fire at him, but fortunately he was behind cover, the cover taking the brunt of the rounds.

"I'm too quick for ya, you bloke!" She cheered out.

Scout bit his lips as she emptied another clip at his cover, steadily shooting away the material that he was hiding behind.

Obviously, this was a woman that was completely different from the crooks and the cops he was more familiar with, and different targets required different tactics.

If he was going to take her down, he'd have to time his shots well, be smart, and most importantly — _he'd have to be patient._

A drop of sweat fell down from Scout's forehead as he felt his cover giving away to the rapid pulse rounds. He then noticed how _exposed_ he was at the sides. He quickly stood up and lunged for another table that was nearby, using it as cover as he ducked behind it.

As he transitioned cover, he could feel the rapid pulse rounds being unloaded upon him, but fortunately, he was a hard target to hit when moving, so he suffered no damage at all.

He successfully reached his cover, and the feat was rewarded by another clip of pulse rounds being shot at the table. He could feel the impact of the tiny pulse rounds beckoning for his body.

"The next time you run for cover like that, just know I won't let you get away as easily!" She threatened.

But finally, when he sensed her reload, he had a chance to give her a taste of her own medicine - not in the form of pulse weaponry, but _raw_ bullets instead.

_"Could say the same thing to you!"_ He ducked out of cover and began to fire at her.

_1 shot _

_2 shots_

_3 shots..._

_All missed._

She dodged all of his shots as her figure quickly phased from left to right and right to left. It was impossible to precisely track her movement because of how sporadic her footwork was, and it was even worse when his scattergun depended on eye-to-hand coordination to see lethal results.

"Terrible aim, luv'! Learn to shoot before using a weapon like that!" She taunted.

_"Damn!"_ He ducked back into cover with a furious scowl on his face.

Scout was beyond irritated because of how much shots he was missing. He blamed it on the alchohol that was still developing in his system, but that was impossible! He was a steady shot, regardless of what was inside of him... but his irritation would prove to be the downfall of him.

It displaced his attention away from more important things that deserved it... _like the devastating flank at one of his sides._

Before he could do anything about it, the woman phased over to the mentioned flank and smirked at him, because she knew that he knew he was about to be in a world of hurt in the next quick seconds.

She let out a volley of pulse rounds against the side of his body.

The rounds felt like hot glass piercing his skin, and he reacted appropriately.

_"Fuck!"_ He gasped out, instantly falling down to one side of his body.

Every shot that came out of her pistols landed on him, and he was left on the ground as a result... _his weapon was still in his hands though, and he hoped to keep it concealed from her sight._

The woman smirked down at the wounded killer, flicking her pistols back in their mini-holsters.

She stood over the man with both hands on her hips, _"I told you not to call me 'cute'. See what happens when you don't listen?"_ She crouched over his body, wincing when she saw him squirm and cringing as she heard his low growls.

"Yikes... you sound like you're in distress, luv'... anything I can do to ease the pain?" She asked sarcastically. The woman loved to tease her opponents after a victory. She couldn't ever resist the opportunity to do so.

_Scout tightened his grip around the scattergun, keeping it concealed as he hugged at his waist._

_"S-stop being a.."_ he coughed out blood, which interrupted his sentence, _"ugh... stop being a smartass and just **finish** your fucking job.."_ he let out a painful breath and gritted his teeth tightly, still clutching onto the scattergun that was close to his waist.

"Then why didn't you just say so earlier?" The woman flicked out her pulse pistols, making the weapons reappear in her hands almost as quickly as she put them away. She pressed the tiny barrels against Scout's head.

"It's a real bloody shame too; you're actually quite stunning for a killer... with your lean body and sparkly blue eyes..." she shrugged and readied her index finger, _"Oh well. Wasted potential, luv'. Bad show!"_

Before she could press the trigger, Scout violently turned his body sideways towards her, which put her arms out of position, and more importantly — pinpointed the barrel of his scattergun in direct contact with her stomach.

The woman pressed the triggers of her pulse pistols wildly as her eyes widened at him.

_He pressed down on his trigger, and an ear-ringing blast was all that could be heard._

The ear-ringing sound subsided after some quick seconds. The woman let out a shaky gasp as the pistols dropped from her hands and made contact with the floor. Scout let his hands depart from the scattergun, resting it upon the woman's shoulders instead, which prevented her twitchy body from touching the ground.

Fresh blood slowly oozed out of her system and out of her mouth, gracefully dripping down onto his neck. He looked down at his waist and saw a mess of her own gore splattered across his shirt and the very top of his pants.

The woman blinked rapidly and gasped at a stuttering pace as she looked at him in disbelief. Her eyes were full of shock too, completely caught off guard by his move.

She continued to sputter little spurts of her own blood onto him, struggling to say a proper word as anything that she tried to let out of her mouth was either a mess of red or a frantic stutter.

It was quite gruesome for Scout to watch; a woman struggling to hold onto the final clings of life... the blood that was falling down from her mouth didn't help either.

For some reason, Scout felt bad for putting an end to her... _he didn't know why though. He felt guilty when he saw the look on her face._

_Luckily (and surprisingly), there was still some life in her._

There was nothing he could do to save her from a point-blank shot from his scattergun, but he wanted to ask her one more question before she would eventually return to dust.

Scout gulped at her as he continued to keep his stare with her's.

"I... I'm _sorry_ for pulling a quick one on you, but I had to do it... but, uh... before you die 'n all that... _what's your name?"_ He asked.

The woman opened her mouth weakly, struggling to say what she wanted to him.

_"R... r... re-**recall**..."_

Her eyes fluttered one last time as she muttered out the struggled word - her body now completely _stiff... the woman was dead._

Scout shook his head and sighed at the dead woman he was still holding onto, _"Guess I'll never know what her name was."_ He took a deep breath and gently laid the woman down on her back, and while he was at it, he decided to examine the device that was on her chest. It was still glowing a bright blue; the same colour that he's seen earlier at the beginning of his encounter with her.

He assumed this was the device that made her pesky teleportation techniques possible... he couldn't lie, he quickly became envious of it, and he wanted those powers for himself.

"I ain't a graverobber, but technically, ya body's not buried yet, so I'm just gonna help myself to this little doo-hickey on ya chest," he touched the surface of the glowing device, "... and I'll just take it off you if you don't mind..." he pressed harder on the device and gripped it in his hands, unknown of the fact that he had to unstrap it from the woman's chest instead.

But as he pressed harder against the device, it pulsated against his touch and heated tremendously against his fingers, which caused him to retract his grip away from it.

_"Ah-damn! What the hell?"_ He furrowed his brow at the odd heat he felt from the device. He tried touching it again, but before he could lay a finger on it, the bright blue light emitted a strong pulse

_And then her whole body emitted a blue aura..._

Scout cautiously backed away from the device, landing on his back as he continued to observe the strange occurrence.

In the blink of an eye, the woman's body phased into a bright blink - disappearing completely from sight, as well as the blood that leaked out of her body. Scout looked down at his waist and saw that he was completely clean from her blood as well.

He blinked his eyes and dropped his mouth at what was happening.

_"What the hell-?"_

His voice was cut off by a high-pitch sound of the distinct _*zip*_ he heard earlier when he was fighting the woman. The bright shape of a blink reappeared in thin air, right in front of him, and then the figure of a woman followed soon after.

With teal lighting, the woman's figure quickly formed into a physical appearance.

Brown jacket, orange leggings, dual pulse pistols...

_Scout blinked his eyes twice and slowly backed away from the resurrected woman, unable to stand up because of the stinging pain in his ribs. _

_"N-no... t-that's... that's impossible."_ He whispered, feeling at his sides for his pistol. For the first time in a long time, he felt _scared..._ because he didn't know who or what he was facing. His fingers kept searching for the grip of his pistol, but he couldn't find it, no matter how desperate he was to pull it out.

The woman smiled at him and shook her head at his claims.

"Impossible? No. Not really. It's happened plenty of times before!" She twirled her pulse pistols and aimed it at him.

_"And the name's Lena Oxton, but you can call me 'Tracer'!"_

Tracer shot at the wide-eyed Scout, finally putting an end to the criminal's spree of crime as his body dropped dead on the ground. She twirled her pistols once more and blew away at the slight smoke that was airing out of the weapons barrels. She flipped both of the weapons back into their respective holsters that were beneath her wrists.

As she stood over Scout's dead body, she couldn't help but wonder what made him turn out this way; what made him turn towards the life of a criminal instead of a kind citizen... _or maybe even a hero._

She's thought about this with every criminal that she's had to put down, and Scout wasn't any different from the lot, as this was what her job required her to do.

Her duty as an agent of Overwatch - the world's _true_ heroes - was one step closer to being fulfilled with every criminal she's managed to defeat.

Scout was the most recent one to be added to the list.

**_X_**

**_X_**

**_X_**

**First, let's get some issues out of the way. Yes, I know that Tracer's recall places her back _3_ seconds in the past, but for the sake of suspense and drama, I decided to extend the time. Besides, Scout would end up dead either way, so yeah.**

**And YES, you read right. I definitely believe Tracer would kill Scout in a 1 v 1 despite him being one of my favourite characters in a video game. **

**She would win a 1 v 1 against Scout any day, cause if you think about it, anyone that could teleport at will in close quarter spaces would end up _killing_ the person that lacked the ability to do the same thing. Tracer's pistols also kill at a very fast rate, especially when all the damn bullets hit up close, and Scout is a frail boy too, so he wouldn't be able to withstand a lot of her pulse rounds. Technically, she wouldn't even need to fight close up with him, cause as long as distance is maintained, her pulse pistols will always outdamage the shotgun. **

**And sure, if Scout did manage to land a lethal shot on her, she always has recall available, which is the bane of my existence as someone who mains Reaper, which also plays similarly to Scout as I just realized some weeks ago (not exactly, but y'know what I mean).**

**Also felt motivated to write this because I'm also going to write one more fic (already in progress) that takes inspiration from an iconic SFM video that was released almost a year ago... no more spoilers. **

**So, consider this a warmup fic before I make my next one in _less_ than 3 weeks (Hopefully!)**

**_And yooooo, I PROMISE 'MERCENARY' IS GETTING UPDATED - JUST RELAX. NEED TO WAIT FOR THE LAZINESS TO POP OUTTA ME!_**


End file.
